


The Deep Snowy Woods

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Good Parent Martin Whitly, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25564891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Martin takes Malcolm into the woods to let him experience it during a winter night.
Relationships: Jessica Whitly/Martin Whitly
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	The Deep Snowy Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cozy_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
> **Notes:** written for cozy_coffee in comment_fic for the prompt Any, any, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening (Robert Frost) and for the allbingo prompt of pinecone. It contains the thoughts/actions of a serial killer so there is some description of violence.

“What are we doing here?” Malcolm rubbed his eyes, trying to knock the sleep out of them.  
Martin smiled at the nine-year-old. His boy had fought sleep valiantly as they had driven back to the city after he’d taken Malcolm to a dance recital upstate. Jessie had so many Christmas charity functions to attend to that she stayed in the city with Ainsley. Malcolm had been so disappointed but he’d danced his little heart out regardless. Martin admired many things about his child and the way he always tried to do his best was high on the list.

He gave Malcolm’s shoulder a gentle shake. “I wanted you to experience something.” Martin locked the car door even though there were no other cars in the little parking lot. He probably wasn’t supposed to be here but he doubted that there would be anyone to notice and if someone did notice, it was an innocent visit to the woods.

Malcolm stifled a yawn. “What?”

“You’ll see.” 

Martin turned on his flashlight and took Malcolm’s hand. Together they hiked into the woods. He didn’t go that far into them, feeling Malcolm clinging close to his side. Martin scowled down at him. His boy was bright and worked hard at the things he liked but he was not the bravest of boys. It was hard to not be disappointed by that. _He’s just a child_ , Martin reminded himself. There would be time for him to grow out of his timidity. 

The flashlight’s beam swept over snow covered underbrush and highlighted the evergreens. Malcolm slowly relaxed, probably thoughts of Christmas and all the presents he knew would be under the massive tree in their home, dancing in his head. Martin could no longer see their car or the lights from the road. There were better paths to his cabin, a more direct but very rural road. It had been snowed in. He couldn’t see the cabin from here. It was a good mile away, too far to walk to in the cold dark night.

Martin stopped and pointed to a log down next to the trail. “Have a seat.”

Malcolm scowled. “It’s snowy.”

“You’ll survive.” Martin chuckled.

Fastidiously brushing the snow away, Malcolm plopped down. Martin sat next to him and turned off the flashlight. Malcolm sucked in a deep nervous breath.

“Dad?”

“Shhh, just listen and let your eyes adjust.” Martin said.

To his credit, Malcolm hushed. Unlike in the summer when the woods buzzed with insects and other noises even at night, the winter woods held a profound silence. It was so deep it was nearly palpable. The dense leaf canopy had long since fallen to the forest floor so stars played peekaboo with skeletal tree branches and hid behind tall fat pines. Malcolm picked up a pine cone, turning it over in his hand before putting it in his pocket. Malcolm canted his head up, drinking it in. The tension faded from his little body as the winter night entranced him.

Martin smiled as the cold seeped into the seat of his pants. This was what he wanted his boy to experience. There was a primal connection to the universe in times like this. As Malcolm studied the secrets of the forest in its winter coat, Martin gazed toward where the cabin rested, thinking of Natalie Nichols. She had been his last experiment just before Halloween. He didn’t like to hunt in the winter. It was too hard to properly dispose of the body.

She had been middle aged and he’d followed her out of the hospital. She’d been visiting the oncology floor. After seeing her several times, he’d sneaked a peek at her medical chart and learned that she had estrogen receptor positive breast cancer. Armed with vials of injectable estrogen, he’d taken her. He and John had kept her alive for a couple of months before he took her apart to see what the estrogen had done to her cancer. It was worse than anything he’d done to her.

Staring into the deep woods and picturing his cabin, Martin conjured Natalie up, the way the cancer snaked through her thoracic and abdominal cavities, entwining itself around her mesenteric arteries like a lover. He’d saved some of the tumor in a specimen jar. Just thinking about it had him swimming in a warm sea of oxytocin and endorphins, the rush almost as good as being with one of his special patients. 

Some of his patients he and John had let the authorities find. There was no way of tracing them back to him. That’s where the media got his uninspired moniker. Martin would have liked something a little less on the nose but what could he do? Others, like Natalie, who might have been linked back to him if someone had seen him hanging around in oncology, had to disappear. He and John had gone out with heavy camping pots and hatchets. They took her to pieces and boiled her up. The smell of it lingered in his nose for a day or more. They left the meat in the deep woods for bears and raccoons and whatever else might eat it. The bones went into a duffle and they ran it over with the car until nothing was left but shards of bone that eventually went into the lake. The duffle went into the fire. Eventually when the tumor had told him all its secrets, he slipped it into the medical waste used by the O.R. It had been laborious but deeply satisfying. He still had his sketches of her insides. He could draw it from delicious memory if he had to.

“Dad?”

Malcolm’s voice startled Martin out of his pleasant reverie. He looked into his son’s face. 

“I’m getting cold.”

“I think we’ve been here long enough. Did you listen to the night?”

Malcolm nodded enthusiastically. “It’s quiet and it’s pretty. It would be prettier if it was snowing.”

Martin patted Malcolm’s back. “When it snows next time, maybe we can sit outside and just listen to it fall.”

“Mom will think we’re crazy.”

Laughing, Martin thumbed on the flashlight, putting Natalie back in her mental box. The Surgeon had his moment. Now he needed to be Martin, the good father. He led the way back to the car, muttering something that popped into his head. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.”

“What?”

“It’s a poem by Robert Frost. It’s from his poem _Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening_. You might like his poems when you’re a little older.”

Malcolm huffed. He hated being told he was too young for things. He’d probably read the poetry just to prove his father wrong and Martin didn’t mind. It kept Malcolm’s mind curious. “It is a snowy evening.”

“Yes it is. And we definitely have miles to go before I can sleep.” Martin grinned as the car still alone in the lot came into view. He had Malcolm dust off his pants before getting in. He did the same and got in behind the wheel. He angled the rear-view mirror to check that Malcolm had strapped in. His boy had kicked off his shoes and stretched out the best he could on the back seat. He did have the belt on him. 

“Dad, are you sleepy?”

“No, that’s just part of the poem.”

“I can stay awake and talk to you so you stay awake,” Malcolm offered but his voice was so thick with sleep Martin doubted he’d get back to the highway before his boy was in dreamland.

“That would be nice,” he said.

To his credit, Malcolm talked for fifteen minutes before falling asleep. The woods, Natalie, and the Surgeon’s playground were long gone. Of course, they were as close as his memory when he needed them. He’d had his nice visit with them tonight but it was time to let them go. Martin turned the radio on low, to a rock station Jessie didn’t particularly like. Smiling to himself, Martin drove home, perfectly content with the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> It looks like I've thought way too long about body disposal. Let's just call it I watch/listen to a lot of true crime stories.


End file.
